


Skating on thin ice

by Colonel_Moriarty



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Olympia AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:38:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colonel_Moriarty/pseuds/Colonel_Moriarty
Summary: Jim Moriarty is a young Figure Skater ready to earn his first gold medal at the Olympic winter games.Things however don't go as smoothly as expected.Especially not after bumping into a handsome bi-athlete.





	Skating on thin ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Octofied who did wonderful art for the fic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Octofied+who+did+wonderful+art+for+the+fic).



Olympia

The moment he stepped out of the plane, he could feel it in the air. This electric tingle. The weird fluttery sensation inside his stomach. Every fibre in his body tense with excitement and expectations of what was to come. He could feel it all at once and more.

And of course the bloody cold.

Jim's breath curled up in front of him as he walked quickly, leaving behind memories of years of training to get to this point. His eyes darted around, taking in any new sight before he climbed into the bus and settled down in one of the comfortable chairs. More athletes filtered in, their murmur filling the air. It didn't surprise him how many complained about the cold. Which was in a way hilarious seeing how they were all used to it. Ice and snow were their training element.

A man fell into the seat next to him and Jim decided to only give him the quickest of glances. He wasn't really interested in striking any conversation. He really preferred to stay inside his own head and tend to his own thoughts. Luckily -or was it strangely?- the man didn't say a word, instead he dug his hands deeper into his armpits, obviously freezing despite his thick gloves, faux fur lined coat and the scarf wound several times around his neck and the lower part of his face.

All Jim could really see were a pair of blue eyes and tan skin. Which made him look like he had either hit the solarium or was half British by birth. The dirty blonde hear peeking out from underneath his wool cap spoke a different language though. Granted there could be a blonde half brit-

Jim caught himself getting way too invested in this man's possible background, angrily chiding himself inside his head. It wasn't important, was it? He didn't care about this guy. And from the short glance he received in return, neither did that man about him.

The rest of the trip to the place in the Olympic Village they would stay at was spent in silence with the man just trying to stay warm and Jim looking outside, watching the city rush by. Taking in all these new sights he wondered if they'd get some time to explore before training would start. And the usual first meeting where they would be given all the needed information and instruction. Security would be tighter this year he had heard. And of course there was this dreadful moment when he'd step into his room to find another person there.

Sharing rooms had never been something easy for Jim. Not just because he loved his privacy. He simply didn't get along with most people. They were...obnoxious. Boring. Bothered him with idle chit chat. Or were simply the rude and loud kind. God if he'd end up stuck with HIM he would request to rather sleep in the basement in a washing machine. He had made his life hell even before the trip. Unfortunately that was a very valid fear.

Well there was no use wasting any brainpower on that possible dilemma now. If this would happen, he'd find a solution. He always did.

When the bus finally came to a halt, Jim realized he had zoned out after all, hardly recalling the last ten minutes of the ride. Stepping outside the tall guy who had sat next to him looked even more miserable and hurried towards the main entrance after grabbing his luggage. Jim caught a glimpse of the name tag attached to it.

'Moran'

An Irish name, what a coincidence. Even though Jim hardly ever cared about his Irish roots. They were just part of him like an arm or a leg. He decided to follow him close by, dark eyes on the back of the man's head. Inside the building they were herded through security and from there given pamphlets and their special card that would allow them free range through all facilities of the Olympic Village.

Pocketing his he walked with the others towards a small gathering area where they were given a quick welcoming speech and then instructed as to where they would find their rooms and their schedule for the coming days. Jim hardly listened, only waiting for his key card to be handed to him. He was the first in the elevator, heading upstairs to the right floor.

Being first in his room meant a strategical advantage. He would be able to pick his bed first. And where to put his necessities in the bathroom. Maybe a silly, small thing but it made him feel more at ease now as the adrenaline had slowed down and he felt tiredness from the travel settle in.

Letting himself fall first on one then on the other bed he finally decided onto the one closer to the door. It was always better to be closer to the door. For a million of reasons. Then he shrugged off his coat and started to open his luggage so he could get to his sponge bag and set it aside in the bathroom. The moment he dug it out though the door opened and for a moment Jim found himself freezing in that half kneeling, half bent over position.

And he hated himself for that tiny moment of panic.

Then he lifted his eyes though and ended up blinking at the figure in the doorway.

„You?“

The man standing there arched a brow at the not very welcoming word.

„Anything wrong with me?“he asked as he dragged his luggage in and just shoved it into a corner next to the bed he'd be using for the time he'd stay here.

„What? No. It's just...you're not with the figure skating team.“Jim cleared his throat, finally recovering his composure. It was the guy from the bus. Not HIM. What a relief. Even if it was confusing.

„You're a genius, aren't you?“These words brought a frown to his face however and his dark eyes almost glared at the stranger.

„Yes, I am indeed, Mr. Moran.“he snapped back sharply then walked stiffly towards the bathroom door, revelling in Moran's confused expression.

„Wait! How did you know my name?“the man was next to him so quickly it reminded Jim of the swiftness of an animal rather than a human.

„Not a genius I see.“he replied with the utmost haughty expression, then nodded his head towards Moran's luggage. „Your name tag.“

„Ah.“Moran sounded dumbfounded, then somewhat upset at the snarky reply before he ended up laughing after all, offering Jim a hand. Jim regarded it for a long moment, before finally taking and shaking it.

A firm handshake. But not the sort some guys would do to assert dominance. And with the gloves finally removed he could feel the callouses against his palm. This guy worked out a lot. Not just guessing from his physique.

„Jim Moriarty. Figure skating. You're with the bi-athletes, I take?“

Again he received a surprised look. But this time he wasn't asked, how he had done it. Smart choice. Maybe. It saved Moran from more of Jim's sass.

„Sebastian Moran. And yes, you're right there. Guess some hiccup made us room mates. So unless you need to chat with your fellow skaters about...I don't know.. pirouettes and the like, I guess we'll be stuck together. Sounds good?“

Jim looked him over as he made up his mind. If he said 'no' he could possibly be allowed to stay here alone. Or he could end up with a certain douche bag. Moran had a bit of a temper, he could tell, but seemed overall like a smart guy. Plus he wasn't exactly an eyesore.

„Mmh. Sounds good.“

And with that he finally got to step into the bathroom.

Half an hour later he had changed clothes from his travelling gear to something more comfortable, looking over to Moran who was lounging on his bed in sweatpants and a thick sweater. While the room was heated he still seemed to suffer from the cold he had experienced that short time outside. Curious.

„Are you going to stay here?“Jim found himself asking, then realized that his question implied he wanted company. Which he didn't. Why would he? To listen to some guy's drivel about how hard he has trained or how many women he has gotten because he's going to Olympia or how excited/scared/etc. he's feeling over his big day? No thank you. But the words were already out of his mouth and couldn't be taken back.

„I was going to but sounds like you don't want to go alone.“Moran's grin told Jim that he had caught up on the fact the man didn't really want company. But now he'd do it just to be a bother. And to see Jim's face turn a bit sour.

Luckily Jim had complete control over his features so instead he shot Moran a beaming smile.

„That's exactly it. Come on then.“

Gesturing to the man in a commanding way, Jim was quite satisfied when Sebastian pushed himself off the bed with a groan and ended up next to him as they wandered the hallway. They were not the only athletes around and a few steps ahead stood a group of four men, talking. They stopped when Jim approached them, one of them giving the young man a rather nasty look.

„Oh look, it's little Jimmy. Seems you found yourself somebody who's not afraid to be seen with you, little faggot.“the pudgy faced man sneered, but stopped immediately when his eyes met Sebastian's. Something Jim noted in another moment of satisfaction.

Passing them without a word, Jim decided not to shoot a nasty reply back. It would only...complicate matters. And Sebastian didn't need to be dragged into th-

„Who was that wanker?“Moran's voice was just loud enough for the group of four to catch them but they had walked away just far enough for them not to run after them. Especially since the two stepped into the elevator and rushing up to the doors closing on them would have been embarrassing.

Jim shrugged. He didn't really want to talk about HIM. Give HIM any space. But Sebastian's curious and demanding expression was hard to ignore.

„Carl Powers. One of the other Figure Skaters. With his posse. Don't waste your time on him.“

„Hrrm. So the kind of guy you really want to punch?“

Jim gave him a tired smile. Yes. He had wanted to do that many many times in the past. But Powers was hardly ever alone. Besides next to him Jim was just a tiny thing and trying to punch him would result in the painful realization that he'd get his arse handed to him afterwards. Moran picked up on that smile and an odd expression flitted over his face.

„Or maybe I should rephrase that. The kind of guy /I/ really want to punch.“

An offer? Jim blinked then shrugged his shoulders again. It wasn't worth the end result and they both knew it. Not while they were here anyway. But he appreciated it.

„You're going to be my bodyguard now, or what?“

Of course he had to be snarky. But Sebastian didn't seem offended by it at all guessing from his grin.

“Sure. If you need one, I'll be your man.”

With the elevator descending their conversation turned to other things and Jim found out that they were first timers, both of them. And that they both would not accept anything but gold from competing here. Moran obviously wanted to impress his father and although he didn't dig into the reasons, Jim could tell why. Obviously Moran senior had never given his son the much needed recognition that he was proud of him. So this was his attempt to gain all of it.

The Olympic Village was vast and four hours and a dinner later Jim was thoroughly exhausted. Mentally and physically. There had been a quick meet up with his trainer prior to dinner and he had been given his training schedule for the next day and now all he wanted was to sleep. Being with Sebastian hadn't been that terrible even if the man had played video games for a bit too long for his liking.

He didn't get to sleep right away though as he felt something cool being pressed against his neck as he was laying on his bed face down.

„What the hell are you doing, Moran?“

Groaning he rolled around, almost getting smacked in the face by a large bottle the other man was holding. Staring at it he then rolled his eyes.

„Seriously? Alcohol? Now? When we're off to training early in the morning?“

„Oi, calm down. It's not like I'm planning on getting us wasted. But fine...you can have juice. With a hint of whiskey.“

Jim gave a deep, suffering sigh then slowly sat back up. While he was truly tired, he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep anyway. His brain would occupy itself mulling over tomorrow, the big day and Carl Powers, even though latter didn't deserve ANY energy wasted on him at all. But it was hard to just ignore him. If he could he would just throw him in front of an ice resurfacer. Holding up his hand in a demanding way, a glass was finally pushed into it. Sitting up slowly he examined its contents. It was really juicy but even so he could smell the alcohol in it.

„If I wake up with a hangover, I'll put all the blame on you.“

Sebastian just chuckled at that, quickly emptying his own glass, refilling it afterwards.

„Oh please. Northing’s going to happen.“

Another glass was emptied while Jim was gingerly sipping from his. Did the man have an alcohol problem or was he just trying to get over how nervous he actually was? Hmm.... Jim would have guessed the second option.

„Besides- figure skating isn't even a real sport like skiing and shooting.“

Ooooh.... Jim's expression grew blank immediately when Moran said these words, the darkness in his eyes swallowing his pupils as he glared hard at the man.

„Really now?“

„Yeah. I mean what do you really do? Twirl around the ice in little sparkly costumes. Flap your arms to the music. That isn't that hard.“

Jim's glare was intense enough by now to pierce a hole through Sebastian's body but instead he just smiled oh so sweetly.

„Now as you're saying it this way, I have to admit you're right. It sounds really easy. So...“he waited like a cat readying itself to pounce the mouse, watching Sebastian down a third glass before finally going in for the 'kill', „how about you show me how it'd be done so it's more...I don't know...hard core and manly?“

Moran gave him that slow blink that told him that the alcohol was starting to affect him. Not enough to make him drunk but enough to have him make poor decisions.

„I hate the bloody cold but...okay. Let me demonstrate you how it should be done. Guess we could also add targets and rifles.“

Stumbling to his feet he grinned, slipping into his jacket, Jim doing the same before he grabbed the taller man's wrist and pulled him along. It took them a while to find the ice skating area and as they flicked the lights on the cold smooth surface beckoned them closer with this sort of magic call that Jim was certain Moran couldn't hear.

Still. The man stayed true to his word and somehow managed with Jim's help to get into the skates they had borrowed for him from a lonely staff member manning the small kiosk at the entrance. Getting him onto the ice was a bit of a harder task and Jim tried his best not to show his amusement as Sebastian cursed and stumbled forward.

It was obvious how Moran was ready to complain about how ridiculously complicated it was to walk like this but a look at Jim and he bit his tongue. After all it had been him to claim that figure skating was hardly a true sport. So of course he couldn't whine and moan now. Once on the ice, he was certain of that, things would change drastically anyway.

And they did. A few steps onto the ice rink and Moran was left to flail his arms in a very ungraceful way before he sailed to the ground. Pushing himself up, muttering something under his breath he managed to stand again. But merely five seconds later he went down once again with all the grace of a falling tree, landing on his rump this time.

Jim felt compelled to yell 'Timber' as he saw the man struggle to stand upright and fall once again. It was a sight he wished he had documented and if only to be a dick and rub it in later. In the end however he didn't. He also didn't offer a hand to the man freezing his balls off on the ice. Instead he took out his mobile.

„I swear if you take a photo of me...“

Moran's threat was completely ignored as Jim scrolled through his list of music. Then he finally choose a piece and pressed the play button after pressing it into Sebastian's hands.

„Hold this. Observe.“

The commanding tone had effect again, Moran's mouth just opening and closing before he just remained perfectly silent as the first few notes of 'Death of A Bachelor' started to play. He watched with confusion as Jim threw himself onto the ice, just to raise back up and start an impromptu routine, gliding across the rink with measured graceful motions before picking up speed and starting the first few figures. They were the simple ones for now but he knew that Sebastian wasn't aware of how little or how much effort he had to put into each. Of course Jim still had to concentrate and keep his motions fluid but he was a professional. He knew what he was doing. Even though he was adding the sort of jumps that would not be allowed in a Free Program. But why worry? Moran wouldn't know about that and if he'd go out of his way to impress the man, he'd go really out of his way.

Sebastian's eyes were on him the entire time. The man seemed completely enthralled, jaw slack again as he stared and watched, clutching the mobile firmly as if accidentally dropping it could end the world. Yes, he had been a big mouthed fool, he knew that by now. And not only because the cold was creeping up his spine by now. Why had he even decided to open his mouth to brag like this? Ugh. But watching Jim now was mesmerizing. Beautiful, yet raw and powerful while seeming so effortless.

A final jump, Jim landing perfectly on the tip of blade of his left skate, before he crumbled back to the ground as the music finished. Laying there for a moment he used it to catch his breath so when he finally skated back over to Sebastian, the man wouldn't be able to tell that this had been tiring at all.

„So...what do you think? Still needs more rifles?“he teased, pleased with how utterly smitten Moran was gazing up at him.

„What? Rifles? Hell no. That was amazing!“

Sebastian sounded genuine in his excitement and after handing Jim his mobile back he was finally helped up. And off the rink because it was obvious by now that the man should rather be in bed than try to figure skate. Or skate at all.

This time Jim found himself a lot more at ease once he was climbing back into his bed. Maybe this guy wouldn't be so bad as a room mate and as company overall. Usually Jim didn't care about such things but in all honesty, for once he had felt particularly lonely. Maybe Sebastian had evoked that feeling in him when he had shown he wouldn't Powers get away with insulting Jim. So maybe he should be upset at the man for making him desire something he usually saw no value or use in. But he fell asleep so quickly this night he couldn't really dwell on these things.

The next days were filled with meetings and training sessions and both of them barely had time to talk between breakfast and dinner. Sometimes they run into each other at lunch and Sebastian would always try to strike a conversation which didn't feel as forced because he could tell the man wanted to hear about his training and what new choreography he might be working on. He even spotted Moran a few times near the ice rink, watching him from a distance.

That was when he decided that he should watch him train as well. Which finally worked when he figured out where the shooting gallery was. And this time it was his turn to not take his eyes off the man as he fired shot after shot. He could see muscles move under Moran's shirt and that expression of utter concentration before pulling the trigger. Watching the man lower his rifle and talk with his coach Jim sat down and contemplated why he found a man shooting a rifle so fascinating. Well it wasn't just fascination though. It was hard to pinpoint at first but then it finally struck him.

He found it hot. No, more precisely he found /him/ hot.

But he had no time to fall for some good looking guy with a rifle and a nice arse – oh yes he had seen him in the shower once. And especially not for a guy who was from what he could tell straight as a nail. Tch. Of course you'd fall for the straight guy, Jim Moriarty. You're so stupid.

Moran never noticed him which Jim was grateful for. The next day was finally the great opening ceremony and he tried to avoid Powers and his gang of arseholes, sticking close to Sebastian instead. It felt as if all these eyes were on him and in a way they were. It was the best feeling he had ever had. This was how the world was supposed to look at him. Not with contempt or disgust because it couldn't understand him. Or accept him for who he was. This was the only way the world should look at him from now on. He'd make sure of it by winning the gold medal.

Looking up to Sebastian he knew the man had similar thoughts but while Jim wanted to win for himself because he simply deserved it, Sebastian wanted to win for somebody else. To receive their praises. Jim didn't care about being praised. Or being adored. Even if both would be gladly accepted. He wanted to get influence out of it. Power. Money. All the things that would allow him to leave a lasting impact. And to further other goals he knew he might have in future. The sort of life he wanted to live wouldn't be a cheap one.

And with that the winter games had started and while Sebastian watched a few competitions from afar, Jim continued training for his 'big day'. His trainer wasn't all too happy when the young man tried to amp the difficulty, adding a few hard to pull off figures in the last moment. But he knew Moriarty was talented enough to manage these. The Short Program had proven this with the score he had received.

Returning to his room without having had dinner he took a long shower, standing under the stream of warm water, collecting himself, mind wandering to the last few years. The moment he had been discovered to the day when he had been told he'd be one of participants in the next winter Olympics. He still could recall the shiver had that run down his spine that day.

When he walked back out of the bathroom he saw that Moran's bed was still empty. Where could the man be? Most likely he was hanging out in the game room with some of his team mates. Ugh. He shouldn't care but...he wanted to talk to the man. About...anything really. And everything. Getting dressed again he left the room, wandering down the hallway, deciding to take the staircase this time. He needed to think of what to say when he found Moran. Usually words came easy but...

In hindsight he should have just texted the man first. And taken the damn elevator. As he was walking down a voice caught his attention and Jim stopped, peering up. Which was an even bigger mistake.

„Oh look, isn't it little Jimmy walking all alone at night? Where's your big strong bodyguard? Run off with somebody less faggy?“

Jim's stomach turned instantly as he recognized the voice and the face that stared down at him. Fucking Carl Powers. Turning he started to walk again. Faster.

„Trying to run away from me? How rude, Jimmy. Okay boys, let's get him!“

He could hear a multitude of footsteps rushing down the stairs, trying to catch up with him. Jim tried his best to outrun them but his legs were heavy from training all afternoon and they were simply faster than him right now. A hand snagged the collar of his sweater and he was yanked back. A moment later he found himself pushed against the wall, his eyes meeting those of Powers who grinned at him as if he had just done something worthy of applause.

„I was talking to you, Jimmy. We're friends, aren't we? I wanted to talk to you anyway.“

„Fuck off, Powers. I don't want to talk to you.“

The first punch to his stomach hurt but Jim managed to ignore it just enough so he wouldn't throw up.

„I think you meant 'I'm all ears, Carl', didn't you, Jimmy boy?“Powers' breath hit his face, making Jim feel even more nauseous. Ugh what did that guy eat for dinner? He stank of fish and garlic. He remained silent though which seemed to satisfy Powers for now.

„So...it's good we met you here before the competition. Just to clear things up right from the start- you're a little faggot loser, Jimmy. You don't deserve to be here. You're a nobody. A no name. But since I'm a nice guy, I let you have silver. Or bronze. Get it? You will make sure to fuck up your routine. Because clearly /I/ deserve to win.“

Jim felt like laughing into Powers' face. Not only did the wanker think he was competition for Jim, he also thought he was competition for all the other figure skaters. Just because he had a rich dad didn't mean he had enough talent to pull off a choreography for a gold medal.

But his stomach was hurting and he felt nauseous so laughter wouldn't come. Instead he tried to pull free but to no avail.

„Get lost, Powers.“

Powers was about to reply to that -most likely with another punch when they heard footsteps from below them. Jim's heart started to pick up a beat. God, how he prayed somebody was coming his way. Powers cursed through his teeth, peering down over the railing.

„Shit. It's him.“he snarled then.

Sebastian wasn't aware of what was going on above him, leisurely strolling up the staircase, hands in his pockets. He hoped Jim was still awake and would want to go down with him for some snacks and maybe a game of pool. He hadn't seen him all day so he knew Jim had been raining rigorously.

Another step and then he finally could hear a voice.

„Sebastian!“

Fuck! That was Jim. And he sounded as if he was in trouble! The noise that followed- a pain filled grunt- proved him right and Moran started to hurry upstairs as fast as he could, taking two stairs at once.

„Hey! What's going on up there? I swear if you don't take your hands off hi-“

He was too late. Sebastian heard Jim scream and then the young man came falling down the staircase towards him. All he could do was to catch him in the last second to prevent his head from hitting the stone. Above him footsteps of several people grew more distant as Powers and his friends run off.

„Jim! Shit. Shit shit shit! Are you okay? Can you get up?“

All the reply he got was Jim groaning in pain as he attempted to stand just to sink back down to the ground, holding his ankle.

„Fucking twat! I'll break his neck!“

Before Jim could tell Sebastian that that would be a terrible idea even if he wanted him to do that right now, he found himself lifted off the ground and carried to the next exit bridal style. Feeling heat rush into his face, Jim decided that, fuck it, he'd just let this happen and make the best out of it. As they stepped into an elevator he slipped his arms around Sebastian's neck, resting his head against the man's chest.

„Thanks. But don't kill him during the Olympics. Too many cameras and reporters.“he muttered then. Sebastian grimaced at the terrible joke, glad to finally reach the right floor where the small medic bay area was located.

„Hrrm. Fine. But only because you said so.“ Handing Jim over to the nurse and doctor on duty, Sebastian was told to wait outside where he ended up pacing back and forth, wishing he had been in time. Or had made sure to check on Jim earlier. Or...just anything. Yes, he knew it was not his fault but it felt as if it was.

When he was finally called back in, he found a very disgruntled Jim sitting on the bed, arguing with the doctor who turned to Sebastian and gave him a helpless look.

„Please try to talk some sense into your partner. He can't possibly skate with a sprained ankle.“

Sebastian's eyes darted to Jim's now bandaged foot and against he had to bite back a curse that was ready to force itself past his teeth.

„He's exaggerating. It's just a bit bruised.“Jim insisted after the doctor had left but they both knew that this wasn't true. Running a hand through his hair in an agitated way, Sebastian started pacing again.

„You just rest.“he growled then, almost making it sound like a command. „I take care of everything else.“

And with these words he was gone before Jim could add anything. He knew where Sebastian was heading off to and he knew the consequences. But he hoped that on the way there, the man would come to his senses. He tried to get out of bed to follow him and hold him back but when his foot touched the floor and he put the smallest amount of weight on it, the sharp pain made him cringe. Ending up on his back he stared at the ceiling, realizing that there was nothing he could do.

And he was right with his assumption that Moran would do something stupid. Storming right into the recreational area he found Powers there with his friends, ready to take over one of the game stations. It was as if somebody had flipped a switch inside Sebastian's head and before anybody could stop him he had walked up to the man in question. Powers opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out but a choked sound as Moran's fist collided with his nose.

Hard.

Those seated around could hear the crunch of bones giving away, wincing and watching the scene unfold in a state of shock and confusion. As Powers body hit the floor, Sebastian stepped over him, hands still clenched tightly.

„Touch him again and it won't be just your nose.“he growled, ready to punch him once again for just moving, just to have security pull him away, while others helped Powers to his feet. It took three men to get Moran to leave the room and when he was finally escorted to his room, that sinking feeling settled in that these actions would have dire consequences.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

„You're what?“

Jim's voice was loud and angry as he glared at the man sitting in a chair opposite to his bed. Sebastian tried to avoid looking at him while kneading his hands.

„I'm suspended. Guess I shouldn't have punched him in front of dozen of witnesses. And of course his friends keep telling everybody that they have no idea what got into me. Fucking liars.“

Jim groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes.

„God, Sebastian! Of /course/ you shouldn't have! Of /course/ they would lie about it! You blew your chances to win a god damn medal! What were you thinking?“

The frustration in his voice made Moran flinch a bit. It had been one of the most stupid things he had ever done but he didn't feel any regret at all. And Jim knew that. In the end the young man on the bed sighed and beckoned Sebastian over, tugging at his shirt to make him bend down.

„I swear you need somebody to look after you. Are you at least allowed to watch the competitions?“

„Yeah but why should I? To watch somebody else win your and my medal? Yeah, no thank you.“

Jim shook his head slowly.

„You will watch the figure skating competition. It's in two days and I want you to get your shit together until then and then watch Powers fail. Understood?“

Sebastian opened his mouth.

„But...“

Jim's lips suddenly pressing to his shut him up for good.

„You'll be there.“Jim repeated and released Sebastian's collar again. „And now go and get me some snacks. They are letting me starve here.“

Stepping out of the room, Sebastian felt like in a daze. Still speechless he reached up to touch his lips. Before he really understood what was going on he found himself grinning like a loon as he skipped away towards the elevator to get Jim his snacks.

He simply couldn't fathom though why the man wanted him to watch the competition. Such a waste of time. Even with Powers failing, looking ridiculous with his broken nose.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

„....showed us a well timed performance with a few really well executed elements. Now to wait for his final score...“

Sebastian didn't really listen to the announcer, eyes on the skater that just left the ice rink. Powers program had been...average at best. There was no chance he'd score a medal. But still. The arsehole had managed to compete, cheating Jim out of a chance to win this competition. And Sebastian? Well he had booted himself out of everything. He was lucky Powers had decided not to press any charges because that would have meant a big investigation and then things might have turned sour for him after all since everybody knew he had been harassing Jim in the past.

Leaning back Sebastian closed his eyes. He didn't want to see Jim after today. Didn't want to look him in the eyes. And tell him who had won. It was just too painful even if the young man seemingly had come to terms with it. He was so lost in these thoughts he didn't even hear the name which just had been announced over the loudspeakers.

Another song started and Sebastian decided he'd just go. From what he knew this would be the final competitor and he was done with figure skating, with competitions and Olympia in general.

_~When I look back upon my life_   
_It's always with a sense of shame_   
_I've always been the one to blame_   
_For everything I long to do...~_

Getting up while taking a final glance to the ice rink Sebastian froze in the middle of the movement.

_**„JIM!?“** _

Of course it would be Jim. Why was he even surprised? He knew the man shouldn't be on his feet, even less ice skating. But here he was, gliding slowly into the middle of the rink.

Sebastian knew he wasn't okay. He simply couldn't be. A sprained ankle didn't magically heal after two days. And even if his foot was better by then- this was the kind of strain that would bring everything back tumbling down. Leaving his seat he stormed down the staircase in the middle of the rows, just to be stopped by security. Shoving his card into their faces, Sebastian was let through, ending up at the very side of the rink, hands gripping the railing tightly.

There was this pressing urge to shout Jim's name once again. To tell him to get his bloody arse off the ice and not damage himself any further. But he saw the expression of utter concentration on Jim's face and when his eyes darted to the side he could see Powers by the sideline, sneering, his face filled with nothing but hatred. That's when Sebastian knew he'd have to let him do this.

_~It's a sin_   
_It's a sin~_

Jim's hands were crossed on his chest, head lowered, body hunched over as if he was truly pushed down by the sheer weight of his sins. But then he raised his head again, arms reaching up, breaking invisible chains, before he went for a few quick jumps in rapid succession. Every time he landed back on the ice Sebastian winced inside, certain he'd heart a scream of pain soon enough.

The voice of the announcer was filling Sebastian's head as he didn't take his eyes of Jim for even a minute, once again mesmerized by his performance. Every motion was powerful and filled with energy, yet graceful and seemingly weightless. As if it didn't take him any effort to whirl around himself just on the very tip of his skate. As if he was not bound to the earth by gravity but was already floating above through endless space.

“....a very energetic approach to his Free Program. It seems he'll be saving the more complex figures and jumps for the second half which should add to his overall score. Already now his performance has been near flawless and....”

Sebastian held his breath. Although he was no expert he knew that pulling the more complicated figures during the second half meant that Jim's body would be pushed even further to its limits. And every time the young man's skates left the ice for another leap or jump Moran's body grew so tense that he ended up looking exactly as he did during the moment of him pulling the trigger of his rifle.

And every time Jim landed again without breaking his foot, his skates or cutting his hands off because he seemed to be bending in ways Moran had not thought possible, Sebastian was cheering him on with the crowd. He could tell by the way Jim was moving faster that he was going for his final jump, the song close to its end. Another time he 'broke free' from his invisible chains and then leaped into the air....

“.....is he really finishing this off with an attempt at a triple Axel? He is! What a magnificent sight! And he landed! A perfect landing! Such balance....”

For a moment pain exploded inside Jim's head and he almost broke down. In the last moment he managed to catch himself, breathing flat and fast as he finished his Free program, kneeling there on the ice, hands raised into the air, head leaned back, eyes closed. He couldn't hear anything but the sound of his blood rushing through his ears.

[And then he was suddenly picked up and when he returned to his senses he looked up into the face of Sebastian Moran whose expression was shifting between an utterly upset one and one filled with the sort of glowing pride he had never seen in anybody's face before when they had looked at him.](https://78.media.tumblr.com/031dc69260bb720000a3d8f7b2d27b91/tumblr_messaging_p4frkpSFmD1qd3j9r_1280.jpg)

“Sebastian what the hell are you d-”  
“Shut up, you idiot! You could have broken your ankle. And neck. And...damn it!”

He was carried over to the waiting area and seated in a chair, his trainer hurrying over and a moment later they carefully removed his skate and cooled his foot with an ice pack. Now he could feel the pain again, hot and throbbing, a thousand knives cutting into his flesh. But Jim didn't flinch as he was treated, eyes on the podium where the judges were calculating his final score.

“...with a final score of 212.05 points! Combined with his points from the Short Program it means that Jim Moriarty has gotten the top score in the competition. Gold for Great Britain! Gold for Jim Moriarty!...”

Sebastian's eyes met with Jim's and for a long moment they simply stared at each other before Jim's arms flung around Moran's neck who was still kneeling before him to hold the ice pack to his ankle. Sebastian could feel Jim's body tremble against his as all the tension left him.

“...you did it.” he murmured then, simply holding on to the young man. God, he didn't have to SEE Powers' fucking face to know what expression was covering it now. Still, he looked when he had the chance and it was glorious.

The media went more or less crazy after that. Especially after discovering that Jim had been injured and had gone through this with nothing but a handful painkillers. Painkillers that wouldn't really have numbed much of the pain since Jim couldn't have gone for the hard stuff due to restrictions and since it would have most likely affected his performance.

Sebastian felt his chest swell with a strange sort of pride as he watched Jim on the podium, gold medal slipped around his neck, a bouquet of flowers handed to him. Moran was holding on to his walking stick because of course fucking Jim Moriarty wouldn't have wanted pictures of him with it while waving at the cheering crowd. He was such a vain brat. Sebastian had to grin at that. Sure, he had ruined his own career but seeing Jim succeed with his brought him too a sense of satisfaction. And strangely enough also peace of mind.

When Jim left the ceremony he was swarmed by reporters, quickly pulling Sebastian close and having him carry him again. Weird how his current predicament was now suddenly picture worthy. But Sebastian knew that questioning the man's motives was useless. Jim did what he wanted and felt was necessary to him at that point.

“Mr. Moriarty, how does it feel to have won gold?”

“Mr. Moriarty how did you manage to go through with your stunning performance with all the pain?”

“Mr. Moriarty will your foot heal again properly? Or is this the beginning and the end of your career as a figure skater?”

“Mr. Moriarty what are your plans for the future?”

All these questions were thrown at Jim as Sebastian tried to carry him through the crowd of reporters, cameras and microphones pushed at him. Then he felt something suddenly slip around his neck and to his confusion he realized Jim had just given him his gold medal.

“I wouldn't have been able to do this without the inspiration, the immense help and the encouragement of my partner Sebastian Moran.” Jim then declared with a beaming smile, everybody's eyes suddenly on Sebastian who felt his cheeks heat up. “He's been my anchor in a stormy sea since the beginning and this medal would not have been possible without him. I do intend to heal fully and the doctors said my chances are excellent if I don't skate for the next few months. And then I'll return to the rink to further my abilities and return to Olympia another time with an even better choreography.”

Proud words and lofty promises but Jim knew the media would just eat it up. Once they finally managed to slip away and into the elevator, Sebastian still carrying him, he pressed his face into the other man's neck, sighing deeply.

“So....you won. Congrats again, Jim. I guess we have a few more days to celebrate your victory here before it is back to home with us and we go our separate ways.”

Jim could hear a certain melancholia swing through Moran's voice and he smiled against the man's neck.

“You're really telling me you didn't mean what you said back then?” he asked then, lifting his head to meet Sebastian's gaze.

“What I said back then?” Sebastian's expression showed nothing but confusion. “What did I say?”

“That you'd be my bodyguard. I'll definitely need one, now that I'm famous. You will keep your promise, won't you 'Bastian?”

Sebastian blinked then his lips split to a broad smile. That little....

“A Moran never breaks his promise. Of course I'll protect your skinny arse. Nobody else will anyway. Not as good as I would, that is.”

“Good. And now come here so we can seal the deal.” Jim's eyes were almost glowing after Sebastian had agreed with him. Grabbing the gold medal he pulled the man's head down just enough for him to press his lips against Moran's.

And to his surprise Jim Moriarty realized there and then that kissing Sebastian Moran felt at least as good as winning gold.

Maybe even better.


End file.
